


Pieces

by CinnamonLily



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Daddy Kink, I don't know where this came from but oh well, M/M, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Multi, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Stetopher - Freeform, Threesome - M/M/M, all smut in the second chapter, also mentions of alive Allison, first chapter is safe for everyone, it's a bit weird here, mentions of minor character death, random Harry Potter references, somewhat canon compliant, that didn't actually happen in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-22
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-10-22 18:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10702863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonLily/pseuds/CinnamonLily
Summary: It’d been a long time since he was last home. It was time to go.Yet he still stayed on the motel room bed. Peter would have so hated the colors of the room. Chris, well, Chris would’ve just flopped down on the mildly disgusting bed cover and told them they’d all slept in way worse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DiscontentedWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscontentedWinter/gifts).



> Dedicated to the lovely, magnificent DiscontentedWinter. 
> 
> This was supposed to be pure PWP. Then plot sneaked in and... yeah. At least the second chapter is smutty?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers in the end note if you want to know more about the mentioned minor character death/s and such before you read this.

 

Stiles knew it was time to go home. So why was he sitting in this dump of a motel room fifty miles from Beacon Hills instead of just getting into the car he’s borrowed and driving there?

He looked at his left hand and forced his fingers into a claw like position. Part of him still waited for wolf claws to force their way out through his fingertips. Or worse, fox claws. He shuddered and rubbed the mostly useful hand across his face. At least most of the nerve damage had gotten better after a while. Sucked being a squishy human when the demon controlling you thought there would be no repercussions on your body if you punched through things.

He glanced at the cell phone on the bedside table. The screen was dark and he knew there would be no messages. No messages, even though he was days late by now, if you counted from graduation day. No messages, even though he knew his lovers missed him as much as he missed them.

It’d been a long time since he was last home. It was time to go.

Yet he still stayed on the motel room bed. Peter would have so hated the colors of the room. Chris, well, Chris would’ve just flopped down on the mildly disgusting bed cover and told them they’d all slept in way worse.

 

-xXx-

 

Peter was supposedly working. He sat in his office in the back of the house. It had been a sunroom once, so the early summer afternoon sunlight filtered through the glass panes on the ceiling. Peter liked his space a lot. It was easy to forget about the darkness that still lingered around his whole being sometimes. That’s why Stiles had loved the room, too.

They had bonded over research at first, back before the demon fox came along and ruined their lives even more. After the fox…. There had been tendrils of something around Stiles and Peter after that. It wasn’t gratitude, exactly, not until Chris stepped in and guided them around the aftermath of the fox.

It had been Chris who made sure Stiles still went to see his father in the hospital. Who made sure the young man ate and tried to sleep. He also looked after Peter, making sure he wouldn’t go and annihilate the whole Yakimura bloodline in revenge.

He’d also taken Peter to bed, giving him another outlet for the overwhelming feelings roiling around in his head and heart.

They’d all lost so much.

Peter thought that Stiles had lost more than any of them, maybe even more than the remaining Hales.

The Nogitsune had almost killed John. It hadn’t succeeded there, but it had managed to kill Melissa. It had targeted Stiles’s remaining parents like a heat-seeking missile, hoping to break the boy into tiny unsalvageable pieces and then use his spark to create more chaos. Or so Deaton had explained it to them all.

Allison had gotten hurt, too. Not by the fox, but indirectly in a blast while they were fighting it and the minions it had brought along. She’d never blamed Stiles for the scars now marring her beauty, not for a moment.

Unlike Scott.

The fox had destroyed Stiles’s relationship with his dad and his brother, and cost him the only mother figure he’d had since he was a kid.

Scott had never been able to understand the difference between Stiles and the fox, somehow, not fully. He’d understood that his brother had been possessed, sure, but he hadn’t been able to comprehend how much of a puppet Stiles had truly been.

Then again, if young McCall hadn’t known that Stiles would rather die than hurt his own father voluntarily, then it was on Scott and nobody else.

Kira had moved away with her father soon after Chris had taken care of her mother. As much as he lived by the code, sometimes Chris had interesting ways of obeying his own code. Stiles always said that while he and Peter balanced between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, Chris was a Gryffindor with a healthy dose of Hufflepuff in the mix.

Peter reckoned he was right.

He forced his gaze away from the daybed against the far wall that had been Stiles’s nest when he recovered from the fox. The light had been exquisite then, too. Even more so when reflected back from the honey colored eyes that followed Peter’s every move, even when he was just working on his computer.

 

-xXx-

 

He’d never thought he’d be so lucky. At first, he’d met his wolf. Of course, the time had been completely wrong for them, but somehow Chris had known the right time might come eventually.

It had, of course. He smiled as he watched Peter’s sleeping form on the other side of their bed.

He’d met Vicky when he’d still been trying to get over the fact that he couldn’t have Peter. Maybe that was what had left him open for her, he wasn’t sure now. Nor did it matter, really. She’d been… wonderful. In her own way, she’d been just as ruthless and intelligent as Peter and….

“What’s wrong?” Peter asked, blinking at him sleepily.

It was sort of creepy how he would know everything, even through sleep. Wolf instincts.

“Nothing, love. Go back to sleep.”

“You too?” Peter murmured and turned to pull Chris’s arm so he’d lie down from his sitting position.

Sighing, Chris did as asked and concentrated on the heartbeat of the man he had there with him, instead of missing the one who wasn’t.

In the morning, he woke up before Peter like usual. Almost three years ago, during that one summer, he’d often left Peter and Stiles in the bed together. They liked to sleep in, and Chris had never really been able to. Not after a childhood full of military like regimen and guns.

He walked with his coffee mug into the basement where he kept his personal collection. You could take the man out of the fanaticism, but the guns remained, Stiles had said once. Chris didn’t like guns because they could kill people and… things, when loaded with the correct bullets. He liked guns because they were beautiful to him. Each was different, their form, their power, where they would be best used.

He avoided looking at the rack on the leftmost side of the gun wall. That was where Stiles’s weapons were. After the fox, shooting at the range had been one of his favorite things to do to try and unwind.

To think they hadn’t become lovers more than a year after the first time Chris took him to the range was baffling. But that was the place where the sort of sensual tension had begun to form between them. It had balanced the things that were already between Stiles and Peter, and well, Peter and Chris.

Even though Peter and Chris had come together again after most of the McCall pack, or what was left of it, went for college—Stiles included—it hadn’t been a new thing. Not with the history they’d shared, way back in the day. It hadn’t felt new. It had just felt right on some bone deep level that had settled Chris’s demons for the time being.

He let his fingers touch the grip of Stiles’s Glock and swallowed hard. No, he hadn’t thought he’d get so lucky for the third time. Especially not while having his first love with him, too.

 

-xXx-

 

He’d asked them not to contact him when he went back for his second year of college after that summer. Not because he didn’t want them, but because he knew the temptation to drop it all and come back to them was too great.

He hadn’t been back to Beacon Hills since. His dad had visited him in Connecticut a few times, but it had never been the same. Not after the fox.

Stiles had picked Central Connecticut State University at random. He had his BA now, and he’d had enough.

It wasn’t the studying as such, even though he’d basically given up on the dream of being a criminal psychologist out of the overwhelming amount of studying he’d still need to do to truly make it. It was more the longing he had for Peter and Chris. It got stronger and stronger each month that went by. He felt like a piece of him was truly missing, which was sort of hilarious, because a destructive asshole like him didn’t fucking deserve all the pieces anyways.

On a logical level, he knew that the fox’s actions hadn’t been his fault. That he’d been a vessel. At least that’s what the shrink in Connecticut had said. Who would’ve guessed Deaton knew people everywhere. A shrink who was in the know was one thing, a shrink that had experience in the aftermath of demon possession was a whole other thing. She’d helped him, some.

There just were things that would never, ever go away.

He drove toward Beacon Hills slowly. In fact, some people were honking their horns at him, and he couldn’t help but to snort at that. Who’d known going home would be this hard?

 

-xXx-

 

Peter still remembered one particular conversation. It happened after maybe the third time they’d all laid on their bed, sated and sweaty, limbs over each other, waiting for their breath to slow to normal again.

“I still think my mild Daddy kink has nothing to do with my actual father-son relationship with John,” Stiles had said in a tone that was sort cheery, but obviously fake.

Peter had snorted, but Chris had reached over Stiles and thwacked Peter on the chest with his large palm.

“Of course it doesn’t have anything to do with that.” Peter had adjusted his reaction.

“It’s just…,” Stiles had trailed off, and they’d waited for him to find the words, because it was obvious by now they’d needed to be said.

“You feel safe with us,” Chris had finally said quietly. “It’s a kink of yours, just like Peter has a thing for your hands and I get hard when either of you handles a gun. It’s not like Peter would just want your hands and not the rest of you, or I’d actually bring a weapon into the bedroom.”

Stiles nodded slowly. “Yeah. Even the thought of my father having a sex life squicks me out like whoa.”

Peter had chuckled at the words that had so adequately reminded them all how much younger Stiles really was. “So you’re not thinking about your father when you call Chris Daddy?” he’d asked, and gotten a well-aimed elbow to the ribs, hard enough for them to crack for the whole few seconds the pain flared before ebbing away.

“Totally deserved that one, love,” Chris had said seriously, but his eyes had twinkled in that familiar way.

“I’d say so,” Stiles had glared at Peter who rubbed his side with a grimace.

“Okay, okay. No mentions of your actual father while we’re in bed,” he’d finally acquiesced.

Stiles had glared at him. “Or anywhere else when there’s sexytimes happening.”

He’d lifted his hands in surrender, then pulled Stiles back against his side and reached for Chris’s hand to pull it over both of them. After that, there had never been discussions on what each of them wanted or needed in bed. They’d just done it, given and taken, and been happy.

Until Allison had driven Stiles to the airport over two and a half years ago.

 

-xXx-

 

It was Sunday, which meant that neither of them would work. It had been family time for them ever since they got back together. Whether that meant they were with Stiles, just the two of them, with Allison there, or even Cora or Derek. Family time was sacred in their house.

Today, it was just them, so they were sat on the couch in the family room, watching random things on Netflix. Idly, Chris wondered if Stiles would’ve called it “Netflix without Chill.” The thought made him smile and his heart ache.

Suddenly, in the middle of a re-enactment of a murder, Peter’s head snapped to the right and the door.

“Isn’t Allison in Paris with Lydia?” he asked.

Before all the words were out, Chris was already on his feet, on his way to the door. If Allison’s car was driving up their long driveway, something was seriously wrong.

He wrenched the door open just as the vehicle stopped between his SUV and Peter’s BMW.

The door opened, and a man stepped out.

It turns out, Stiles at twenty-three was a whole different animal than Stiles at twenty had been. Chris swallowed hard and grabbed the door frame when his knees wobbled.

He could feel Peter behind his shoulder, but all his conscious attention was aimed at the man walking the few steps to get to the stairs.

He stopped in front of them, hesitating, but not fidgeting like he would’ve in the past.

His shoulders were so, so wide, and the black t-shirt clung to him like layer of paint, and his gaze was still honey, although this time there was hesitation in their depths.

“Well that horrible hair has to go.” Peter sniffed. “You look like a muggle.”

Chris gave a short, startled laugh.

Stiles… Stiles looked like he’d cry, but then he took one long leaping step and landed in Chris’s arms, shaking and trembling as he squeezed.

“Hey, you’re home, baby,” Chris said when he felt Stiles’s tears against the skin of his neck. “It’s going to be okay. You’re home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor character deaths: mentions of Stiles hurting his father while possessed by the Nogitsune. Also mentions of the Nogitsune/Stiles killing Melissa, and Chris killing Noshiko in retaliation of the whole mess.
> 
> Next chapter involves all the sex. You've been warned in case that's not your thing. If it is, I hope you like it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is where the smut happens, people. You've been warned.

They didn’t talk much. They’d moved from the front steps to the couch, and just cuddled for the longest time. It felt like the weight of the world was finally lifting from his shoulders as he sat between the men he loved.

“I’m sorry I’ve been gone for so long,” he whispered quietly into the silence that reigned the house right then.

“We understood,” Chris answered.

“Don’t mean we didn’t miss you every day and night, though,” Peter added, and Stiles could feel Chris nod in agreement.

“I missed you too.” His voice hitched a little, but he felt like he was all cried out for now. “I fucking never knew that you could feel like pieces of you were missing for real,” he admitted.

“I knew.” Peter’s tone was solemn, and Stiles realized both the men who loved him had lost their lovers before.

“Me too,” Chris confirmed.

For Peter, it had been his pregnant wife in the Hale fire, for Chris, it had been Victoria.

“At least I still have you,” Stiles said quietly, then startled at his own words and pulled away to turn and look at them both. “I do still have you, right?”

It felt like time stopped for a moment while he waited for their answer. Logically he knew he wouldn’t be here like this with them now if they wouldn’t have him back. Chris might’ve comforted him, but Peter wasn’t that selfless. Peter was enough of an asshole to have gone to the sunroom, away from Stiles.

“Of course you do,” Chris said after two seconds that had felt like hours.

Peter looked like he was trying to find a snarky way to answer the question, but couldn’t come up with anything. Instead, he reached his hand behind Stiles’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. Yeah, sometimes it was easier for all of them to act instead of speaking.

As he melted into the kiss, Stiles felt like something clicked inside him. Something he’d repressed for the years he’d been gone. That side of him that was only for Chris and Peter to see was trying to surface again.

He pulled away from the kiss and looked at Peter, then at Chris. He unconsciously began to worry his lower lip with his teeth.

“What is it?” Peter asked, while Chris reached to tug his lip free from his teeth.

“I…,” Stiles said and looked away.

He saw Chris and Peter share a look from the corner of his eye. Then Chris cleared his throat.

“Do you need us to take care of you, baby boy?” he asked in his lower register voice.

His Daddy voice.

Stiles made a pitiful whimpering sound and bit his lip again. He could feel the tight chains around his whole being squeeze tighter once, then Peter’s voice made them loosen suddenly.

“Come on, sweetheart, let us take care of our boy.”

It felt like someone had forcefully pushed oxygen into his lungs, everything was suddenly incredibly clear, yet he felt light-headed as Peter and Chris pushed and pulled him off the couch and into the bedroom.

He felt everything at once; their hands supporting him so he wouldn’t fall, the breaths against his skin, Chris’s teeth—and Peter’s sharp canines—marking him while they undressed him. The way his whole body seemed to light up with each caress, each gentle coaxing of his limbs into position, felt familiar and long-awaited at the same time.

He found himself on the bed, sandwiched between his lovers—in this moment his Daddies—with Chris’s chest pressing against his and Peter against his back.

“What do you need?”

Stiles’s mind whirled with all the possibilities as he reached one hand to touch Chris’s chest and the other to grab onto Peter’s thigh.

“Tell us, baby boy,” Chris coaxed, and suddenly Stiles felt overwhelmed again.

He was exactly where he was supposed to be; everything here felt so _right_ , yet something was still _wrong_. He let out a distressed sound and shook his head as much as he could lying down. A sob bubbled up from somewhere deep in his chest, and he ducked his head under Chris’s chin and just stayed there, hiding from everything.

“Oh, sweetheart. I see,” Peter cooed into his shoulder blade. “I think we need to make all the decisions this time, don’t we?”

Stiles groaned at the words and nodded, still hiding against Chris.

“How about this,” Chris said and ran his fingers through Stiles’s overly long hair. “Peter will open you up with his tongue, because you like that so much, baby.” Stiles moaned at the sensory memory washing through his body. Chris chuckled. “And I’ll prep myself while he does that, you can watch if you want. Then you can fuck me while Peter fucks you. Best of both worlds, right?”

“A proper welcome for our baby boy,” Peter murmured each word between kisses along Stiles’s spine. “I love it how you’ve filled out, baby,” he said in a tone that was almost reverent to Stiles’s ears.

“He’s so handsome now,” Chris agreed while reaching back to the bedside table for the lube. “Not that there was anything wrong with our boy before, either.”

Peter maneuvered Stiles into a position where he hugged a couple of pillows to his chest with his ass sticking up for easy access. Chris moved so that he could finger himself more easily and Stiles could still see what he was doing.

Then suddenly Peter bit his ass cheeks gently, one after the other, then harder, probably to see the marks disappear. The man was such an aficionado when it came to love bites. Maybe it was a wolf thing, but Stiles sure wasn’t complaining, never had.

“Come on, I’m up to two fingers and I’m not going to wait to get some of our boy. You better hurry up,” Chris told Peter, groaning as he twisted his wrist awkwardly for maximum effect.

Humming with obvious delight, Peter buried his face between Stiles’s cheeks and just breathed for a moment. Scenting, biting, and tasting his lovers meant everything to Peter, but Stiles was getting impatient now. He knew what was coming, and he whined to get it.

The quick smack of a large palm against his left ass cheek wasn’t completely surprising, and certainly not unwanted.

“You should get a proper spanking,” Chris breathed out the words while adding lube to his fingers and pushing three into his own ass. “M-maybe we should, oh, Jesus, maybe we should make it a routine. Every time you get too stressed out or bratty, we should just balance you out by spanking it all out of you, oh fucking, this is….” The words ended with a long moan.

Stiles could follow about half of what Peter was saying, the thought of being spanked liquifying his brain a little. His cock was rock had and twitching underneath him as Peter stabbed his tongue into Stiles’s hole.

He couldn’t help the pitiful sounds that escaped him now. He couldn’t watch Chris, either, his eyes just weren’t able to stay open in the onslaught of sensations. With Peter’s tongue lapping at him and his claws occasionally scraping against Stiles’s skin in different spots on his body, and the noises Chris was making, he was getting close to his senses overloading.

He got a bit lost in it all, which was exactly why they were doing this, especially in this way. When he was their boy instead of their lover, he could just let go and….

“Come on, I’m more than ready,” Chris commanded. Then Peter grabbed Stiles’s shoulder to stop him from moving. “What is it?” Chris froze with them.

“Do you need a condom, Stiles?” Peter asked, his tone going growly against his ear.

For a few seconds Stiles’s brain went blank, then he understood what Peter was asking.

“No,” he whispered as he shook his head. “Nobody without one,” his practical brain managed to get the words out.

The animalistic growl coming from Peter made Stiles’s skin crawl in all the right ways. He was sure Peter’s eyes were flashing, his wolf close to the surface knowing he hadn’t given all of himself to another while he was away.

He’d never fucked anyone without a condom, not before or after Peter and Chris. Nor would he. Not that it seemed like he would be fucking anyone else ever again anyway.

He was suddenly moving between Chris’s thighs as Peter handled him where he needed to be. Chris had barely enough time to put a pillow underneath his own hips before Stiles was there, right against him.

“Hey, baby boy. Ready to give me your cock?” Chris asked, pulling him into a dirty kiss. It was all domination, even if Chris was on the bottom. The hand fisted in his hair was tugging roughly, making his scalp tingle and a whine rise from his throat as he balanced himself with his hands on either side of Chris.

He could feel Chris’s free hand on his cock, lining him up while Peter held his hips still. Then he was practically pushed inside Chris who groaned and closed his eyes, head thrown back to absorb the feelings coursing through them.

Stiles hissed at the cold lube on his ass and got another slap from the complaining noise.

“You’re supposed to take what we give you, boy. Don’t make me pull you out of Chris’s hole and spank you right here,” Peter let a little growl into his voice.

Then the cold lube warmed up and Peter’s scorching hot cock pressed inside him.

“This what you’ve been missing, baby boy? This what you need, sweetheart?” Peter ground out the words as he pressed them all together.

“I don’t think he can speak much. You might want to do the moving for him, too.” Chris’s voice barely penetrated the haze Stiles was slipping into.

The squeeze of Chris around his cock and the delicious fullness of Peter’s cock inside him stole all words and thoughts from him.

He could hear them murmuring to him as they used his body, giving them each pleasure in a way that was achingly familiar from before. He could have this, some part of his brain told him. He could have this forever if he just stayed.

He made a sound that was part sob, part whine, and let himself be handled like a ragdoll. He knew it would be better for Chris if he would move his hips more, but he couldn’t, right then. It was too much. All of it was too much and not enough, and his orgasm started to creep closer by increments but it still felt so damn far.

“Hey, baby boy,” Chris said suddenly, his voice the familiar husky one that told even Stiles’s muddled mind he was close to coming. “We love you. You can let go now. Come with us.”

A few more rough thrusts from Peter, and Stiles could feel Chris’s cock erupt between them. The scent of his come and the sound he made seemed to spur Peter on. The wolf thrust a few more times, leaned down and whispered into Stiles’s ear.

“You’re such a good boy for us, baby, such a good boy. Love you.” Then not-completely-blunt teeth closed around his shoulder and his mind fragmented, then completely blanked out for a few precious moments.

Stiles came to slowly. He heard them speak, felt them touch him. The cloth one of them used to clean him up felt too smooth to be a washcloth, so it was probably Peter repurposing one of their t-shirts.

“Hey, baby boy,” Chris said from somewhere close.

Stiles blinked a few times, gathering the pieces of his mind again, and smiled at the man widely.

“Hey yourself,” he said in a raspy, not-quite-there-yet voice.

Peter’s chuckle from his other side was followed by the familiar body pressing against him, and a bottle of water handed to Chris and him. “There, help him drink a little.”

Chris did as told, and after a few sips, Stiles could drink some himself before handing the rest of the water for Chris.

“I love you too,” he said suddenly, remembering the words from earlier. “I did what I had to do so I could come back.”

Chris nodded in a somber way, while Peter stilled behind him. Stiles was about to turn to look at their wolf, when Chris took hold of his wrist to signal him that Peter needed space, as physically close as he was right then.

It took a minute or two, but then Peter got the question out. “For good?”

The vulnerability in his voice made Stiles’s heart ache. He tried not to blame himself for having to make choices for his own future, but it didn’t feel good to hear their wolf like this.

“Yes. And if I go again, you two are coming with me.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Chris whispered.

They rested for a while, just soaking in the closeness and the fact that they were all there once more.

Since it was still early, Stiles realized he was getting hungry.

“There any dinner?” he asked hopefully, making Peter chuckle.

“He has some paprika and meat thing in the crock pot again,” Chris said and smiled.

“Ooh, I love those.” Stiles struggled to move from between and underneath warm, firm bodies and heavy limbs.

Peter rolled off the bed and helped him up, too. “I know, sweetheart. Let’s go eat.”


End file.
